Tucker finally catches you staring at his thighs and decides a cooking lesson isn't what you actually need.
word count : 2.1k — explicit — thigh-riding — dry-humping — praise — tuck being super sweet and cute and a giver — tuck (he deserves a warning cause damn) — my boy tucker deserves the filth so i'm not sorry about that one — enjoy and please tell me what you think !
There was a fine line between patience and sheer torture, and John Tucker had been dragging you across it for months.
It wasn't his fault, that was the worst part. He wasn’t playing games—he was just genuinely, wholesomely oblivious. Every time you wore his favorite jersey, or intentionally leaned close to touch his forearm while he laughed, or made a pointed comment about how he’d make an incredible boyfriend, Tucker would just beam, give you that sweet, devastating dimpled smile, and say something like, "Appreciate you, darlin', always so good to me."
Always so good to him. His polite deflections were a special kind of psychological torture.
Right now, you were sitting at his kitchen island, supposed to be chopping garlic for the shrimp scampi alfredo he was teaching you to make. Instead, you were entirely hypnotized by the view.
Tucker was standing at the counter, leaning over a cutting board. He was wearing a pair of very, very thin, gray athletic shorts. Because he was leaning forward, the fabric was pulled tight, completely mapping out the staggering size of his thighs. They were dense, farm-boy quads carved out by years of heavy squats and explosive skating. You could see the distinct, powerful sweep of muscle definition, and the way they flexed every single time he shifted his weight.
You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the knife. You wanted to bury your face in them. You wanted them gripping your waist. You wanted—
"Uh, darlin'?"
Tucker’s sweet voice shattered your trance.
You blinked, snapping your eyes up. He was looking at you, a half-bun of messy dark curls sitting on top of his head, holding a block of aged asiago cheese. He was frowning slightly, but his eyes were warm and amused.
"You've been hacking at that same clove of garlic for five minutes, and I think you're about to slice your thumb off," he laughed, stepping away from the counter.
"Oh. Right. Sorry," you muttered, looking down at the mangled garlic.
"Everything alright?" He walked over, stopping right beside your stool. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his bulky frame. "You've been quiet all evening. Not like you."
"I'm fine, Tuck. Just... distracted."
"By the cooking?" He smiled, entirely missing the mark. "I can take over the chopping if you need a break."
Amused, Tucker leaned closer, resting one hand on the edge of the counter to look down at your messy chopping board. The movement brought him directly into your space. Because you were sitting and he was standing, his broad chest was right at your eye level, and his solid leg was practically brushing against your knee.
The kitchen went dead silent, save for the low sizzle of the butter and garlic simmering on the stove.
You froze, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm. Up close, the sheer size of him was completely overwhelming, and your eyes helplessly darted right back to the thick muscle of his leg, just inches away from you. The weight of your own dirty thoughts made you dizzy, and a wave of mortification washed over you. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and you definitely couldn't handle him being this close while your brain was doing that.
"Tuck," you choked out, your voice tight as you gently pressed a hand against his chest to keep him from getting any closer. "Can you... can you back away just a little bit? Please?"
Tucker blinked, completely caught off guard. He froze, looking down at your hand, and then up at your face. The easy, golden-retriever warmth in his eyes instantly shifted into pure, panicked concern. He immediately took a large step back, his shoulders tensing.
"Did... did I do something wrong?" he asked, uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant. He looked entirely heartbroken at the idea that he’d made you uncomfortable. "I swear I didn't mean to overstep, darlin'. If I said something insensitive, or if I'm being a bad teacher—"
"No! No, Tuck, it's really not you," you interrupted quickly, your face burning a violent, hot shade of red as you looked away shyly. You wrung your hands in your lap, wishing the kitchen floor would open up and swallow you. "It’s... it’s a really silly thing. Honestly. I'm just being ridiculous, but I... I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all evening, and having you right there was just too much."
Tucker frowned slightly, his concern melting into soft, focused curiosity. He leaned forward just a fraction, throwing the dishtowel he was holding over his shoulder, trying to catch your eye, his tone incredibly sweet. "What is it? You can tell me. You know you can tell me anything."
You swallowed hard, your throat completely dry. You tried to find the words to explain the last three months of unrequited pining, but your brain entirely short-circuited. Instead of speaking, your gaze helplessly dropped again.
You just stared.
Tucker followed your line of sight. He looked down at his own lower half, at the thin, gray athletic shorts stretched taut over his quads.
He looked back up at you, his brows arching high in utter disbelief. He slowly raised a hand, pointing a thick index finger directly at his own leg.
You gave a tiny, incredibly embarrassed nod.
"You're... you're thinking about my legs?" he breathed, his voice dropping into a register that was completely new. The confusion on his face melted away, replaced by a sudden, breathless warmth.
He didn't back away this time. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, re entering your space again until your bodies almost touched. Up close, he was so bulky and warm, and as his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze softened into something... different. Heavier. His eyes dropped down, noting the deep flush spreading down your neck, the way your breathing had turned shallow, and the distinct, telling tension in your posture.
Tucker’s breath hitched. A slow realization hit him.
"Oh," he murmured, his voice deep and velvety.
A faint, endearing pink crept up his own neck, but he didn't back down. Instead, a sweet, slightly stunned smile touched his lips. He reached out, his large hands surprisingly gentle as they settled on your cheeks. He leaned in, leaving barely any space between your faces.
"Well, little darlin'," he whispered, his voice low and teasingly soft near your ear. "If it's bothering you that much... do you think you'd let me help you with it?"
You gave a tiny, helpless tremble. You couldn't even breathe, completely undone by the sudden, heavy hunger in his eyes.
"Yes," you whimpered.
The sweet, patient boy didn't hesitate. With one easy, seamless movement, Tucker took a step back, pulling up the barstool right next to yours. He sank onto it heavily, rotating his frame so his back was resting flush against the edge of the countertop.
He looked up at you through his long lashes, his chest heaving as he let out a low exhale. The golden-retriever innocence was far gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that made your pulse skyrocket. Without a word, Tucker raised his hand and firmly patted the top of his rock-hard thigh.
"Come here."
Your breath hitched, a sudden wave of nerves making you freeze. You stared at his leg, then up at his eyes, faltering on the edge of your seat.
Seeing your hesitation, Tucker's expression softened into a look of pure, reassuring patience. He reached out, sliding his hand over yours. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and steady, and he slowly guided you off your stool. He pulled you into the narrow space between his knees, lifting you just enough to guide your legs apart until you were straddling his right thigh.
The contact was electric. Before you could pull away, he took both of your hands in his. He brought them down, pressing your open palms flat against the bare, burning skin at the hem of his shorts. He forced your fingers to curve around the thick, dense sweep of his quad.
"Touch it," he hummed, his voice a sweet command against your ear.
Even now, with the air thick and heavy between you, his true nature didn't change. Tucker was, at his core, a caretaker. He was the boy who always quietly made sure you were looked after, and this moment was another extension of that—him easing the ache you’d been carrying all evening, giving you exactly what you needed. But as your palms settled fully against his skin, his chest rose in a slow, deep breath, his eyes closing as he let out a shaky exhale. His thigh flexed under your hands—not to pull away, but leaning up into your touch, completely yielding to it. Because Tucker wasn't just doing this for you; he was sinking into it just as deeply, needing the closeness just as much.
The sheer sensation of his muscle flexing under your fingertips sent a jolt straight to your core. Your hips twitched instinctively, a helpless, desperate movement that ground your center right against the hard ridge of his leg.
Tucker let out a low, ragged growl, his hands instantly locking onto your waist to hold you right where he wanted you. "Do that again. Ride it, darlin'. Let me feel you."
All your built-up frustration broke. You shifted your weight, and slid your hips down against his leg in a heavy, deliberate rhythm. The friction through your clothes was devastating. Tucker leaned his head back, a choked sound escaping his throat as you rode him, his fingers digging possessively into your hips. He braced his foot against the bottom rung of the stool, angling his thigh up to give you more leverage, matching your frantic pace with steady, torturous upward thrusts.
The friction alone was sending him over the edge. Up close, you could feel the sheer, radiating heat rolling off him; he was burning up, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Beneath the thin gray fabric of his shorts, his length had grown shockingly hard, straining painfully against his waistband as he watched you work yourself against him.
The pleasure built too fast, coiling tight and sharp in your stomach. You whimpered, your movements turning wild and uncoordinated as the edge rushed up to meet you.
As your body began to tighten and tremble, Tuck reached up. He brought his large hand to your face, cupping your jaw with a fierce devotion. His thumb brushed over your lips, parting them, and he pushed it ever so slightly into your mouth.
You didn't even think. Your eyes locked onto his blown-out pupils as you instantly wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking on it desperately while your hips shuddered through a hard, breathless climax.
He leaned in close, pulling you up until your foreheads pressed flush together, his hot, heavy breath mingling with yours. As the waves of heat crashed through you, Tucker watched you shake, his attention entirely locked on you as he guided you through it.
"Good girl," he husked, the warm pad of his thumb moving gently inside your mouth. "Look at how perfect you fit against my thighs."
You cried out around his finger, your core pulsing helplessly against his solid quad as the release completely emptied you out. The intense, tight contractions of your climax clamped down on his leg, and the sheer sight and feel of you completely unraveling in his lap shattered whatever remaining restraint Tucker had left.
His jaw went rigid, his eyes rolling back as a harsh, violent shudder tore right through his bulky frame. He choked on a breath, his fingers digging bruisingly deep into your waist as his hips gave one last, desperate, involuntary jerk upward into you. He came hard right there in his pants, the thick heat of his release soaking through the front of his gray athletic shorts, matching the wetness you had left on his thigh.
For a long moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the ragged asymmetry of your shared breathing. Tucker’s forehead rested heavily against yours, his chest heaving as the tremors finally subsided, leaving him thoroughly spent and slumped against the counter.
Gradually, a slow, familiar warmth returned to his eyes. He slipped his wet thumb from your mouth and used it to gently tap the tip of your nose, that devastating dimple finally cutting through his dazed expression.
"You know," he chuckled breathlessly, looking up at you through his messy curls. "Next time you want to skip the lesson, all you have to do is ask."
He gave your waist an affectionate squeeze, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at the dark wetness soaking through his shorts.
"You spent all that time on this one," he teased, his gaze dropping to where your hands were still molded around his right quad. A slow, playful grin touched his lips as he nudged his left leg slightly against yours, drawing your attention to it. "But I promise the other one is just as good."
A/N: This was such a hard choice! So I chose BOTH! :D I hope it’s okay!
------------
40) “I made this for you.” & 56) “It brings out your eyes.”
Most nights, you had your headphones on when you worked, tapping away at the keyboard while music blasted into your ears. But now, you had the headphones off, the music on a low volume, as you typed slowly, flinching at every creak around you. The apartment was mostly quietly, giving you the chance to hear any disrupting sound if it came.
Even expecting something, you jerked at the sudden sound of the front door slamming shut, squawking as the chair beneath you wobbled and flipped, sending you crashing to the floor.
“Sweetheart?” the voice called, making you sigh and groan at the same time.
“I’m okay!” The office door pushed open, the light clicking on overhead as you winced, and glanced over. “Hey, Tuck.”
“Got your message, I’m sorry I didn’t answer, the damn thing died on me,” he huffed, waving his phone a little. “Everythin’ alright?” he chuckled, not even commenting on you on the floor as he crossed and caught your hands to pull you to your feet.
“Not...really, I mean, I’m okay,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I talked to Mrs. Johnson while I was getting my mail this morning,” you continued, as you stepped back to brush your hands over your clothes, “she said a couple of the tenants got robbed the past few nights.”
“Shit...that’s awful,” Tuck replied, watching you shut down the computer and fix your chair before you turned to see him, lip between your teeth. “Freaked you out, didn’t it?”
“Maybe.” Snickering, Tuck curled his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he nodded.
“Nothin’ wrong with that, though, luv,” he promised, leading you to the living room.
“I’m a grown woman!” you objected, swatting at him as he laughed. “I shouldn’t freak out just because a couple of 90 year old women got robbed.” The moment you said it, you winced, turning to see him. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s awful they got robbed, but I do have the ability to swing a baseball without, you know...breaking my arm.” Tuck laughed again, grasping your hips to nudge you into the other room as he pressed a kiss to the back of your head.
“But there’s nothin’ wrong with callin’ me out to keep you safe, luv, right? Because it ain’t the whole buildin’ that’s got a big bad CIA agent to protect them,” he teased, wrapping his arms around your waist as you shuffled to a stop in the middle of the room.
“I don’t know if you’re stroking your ego or flirting,” you replied, smirking, before turning to look at him as he grinned innocently.
“Little of both, I s’pose. Is it working?”
“Maybe. Are you active tomorrow, or…?” Tuck shook his head, leaning to peck a kiss to your cheek, humming in confusion as you patted his chest and slipped around him.
“Luv?”
“I’ve had some...free time, with you being busy a lot,” you commented, making him wince.
“I know, I’m sorry, darling, but you’ve got me for at least a few days!”
“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad!” you laughed, disappearing into the bedroom. “I wanted to explain myself!”
“Oh no.”
“Don’t you oh no me, Tuck.”
His laugh made you feel warm and fuzzy as you dug into the closet, your lip pulled between your teeth as you pulled the item off the shelf, smoothing your hands over it. You’d been knitting and crocheting, on and off, for years, but with Tuck’s job constantly taking him away, it left you with a lot of free time, considering you had no dates to go out on if he wasn’t around. When you were bored, or restless, or couldn’t sleep, you found yourself curled up in the recliner, working on the item in your hands. At first, you hadn’t known what you were making, to be honest, you just started going, but you were glad you made what you did, even if it was something that didn’t come in handy that often in Los Angeles.
“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” Tuck called, shaking you from your thoughts as you held the item to your chest, shuffling back out.
“I know you are a big, bad, tough CIA guy, but...I made this for you.” He turned away from the fridge, lowering his water to the counter as he furrowed his brow, curious.
“What it is?”
Shrugging, you held it out to him, watching as he unfolded the navy blue cardigan you’d handed him. He studied it for a moment, curious, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, before the softest smile tugged at his lips, and he moved, slipping it on.
“...does it fit okay?”
“It fits perfect, sweetheart, you made this?” he asked, smoothing his hands over the sides, and across the arms.
“I did...and hey…” you giggled, as his head lifted, gaze meeting yours. “It brings out your eyes.” That cracked a large grin across his face, followed by a laugh, as he looked down at himself. “I mean, I know we’re in LA and it’s not like it really gets cold…”
“No, I love it, darling, it’s great. No one will possibly take me seriously as a CIA agent in this, but…” You ducked your head, stuffing your hands into your pockets, missing the way he flinched before he grabbed you by the waist, nose grazing your temple. “I’m teasing you, sweetheart. I love it, I promise.” Tuck sounded so sincere that you couldn’t help but look up at him, blushing.
“Really?”
“Really. Now c’mon. I’ve got my gun, you’ve got your bat. Let’s go cuddle up on the couch while we wait for the idiot burglar to try and break in here, hm?” Laughing softly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
°Imagine Tuck getting upset with a newbie agent who decided to make a vulgar remark about you...
"Sorry, what was that mate?"
The young agent turned his gaze from where you were walking away.
"Hmm? Nothin',"
Having returned a short time later from your vehicle, you saw that Tuck was glaring at the man across from him.
"Tuck?"
He blinked, rising from his seat, "Sorry, love,"
You smiled, accepting his kiss before placing a small bag on his desk.
"Where's Frank?" You questioned.
Tuck stayed close to you, his warm presence comforting you from the coldness of the agency, "He's out for the week. Something about Lauren getting hurt at work,"
"Oh wow, I hope she's okay!"
Tuck smiled, cupping your cheeks, "I'm sure she is, yeah?"
A not so quiet comment froze you in place and Tuck's body went ridged, "Listen here-"
"Tuck, he's not worth it," You whispered.
"He shouldn't be talking about my girl like that," he said, but took a deep breath.
"Listen, I want you to pack a bag for us, yeah? We'll go out to the beach house, just the two of us,"
"Oooo, an impromptu vacation? I like," You said, grinning and wiggling your eyebrows while Tuck laughed.
"Anything for you, Darlin'. Now get a move on, then. Don't want to waste any more time," he said, turning you towards the door.
You gave a him a mock salute and blew him a subtle kiss as you left knowing full damn well that once you were out of ear shot, he'd lay into his temporary partner.
A/N: Oh my god, I hope this is okay?! I got interrupted so many times I couldn’t figure out how to end it. Ahhhh.
—————————————-
57) “There is enough room for both of us.”
The bar wasn’t absurdly loud, but it was buzzing with voices and music and laughter as you wound your way through the crowd towards the bar. After a long day at work, you had earned your drinks, but you’d gotten distracted as you came in, nearly forgetting to even grab something to quench your thirst.
“Y/N!” You stumbled, brow furrowing, and turned towards the sound of your name. The second your eyes fell on the piercing blue ones, squinting with a grin, you laughed, shaking your head and abandoning your quest to head towards the booth.
“Here I thought I’d be able to go out without encountering you, FDR,” you chuckled, smiling. “What’s going on?”
“Ah, out celebrating the end of the week with Tuck,” he replied, tipping his glass towards the other man in the booth, before taking a drink, the amber liquid disappearing between his lips. You turned your head, curious, and found yourself immediately blushing as the soft blue eyes met yours, his pink lips curling into a smile. “Tuck, this is Y/N. Sweetheart, this is my best friend Tuck. Shit, he’s pretty much my brother.” Tuck grinned, chuckling as he looked at FDR, before looking back up at you, nodding.
“Nice to meet you,” you promised, reaching down to shake his hand as he held it up for you.
“You too, darling,” Tuck replied, the sound of his accent making you bite your lip.
Before you could say more, FDR jumped, nearly dropping his glass before he dug into his pockets and pulled out his phone, curious.
“Ah shit…sorry, I gotta take this, I’ll be right back,” he spoke up, hopping out of the booth as he answered. His voice disappeared into the bar as he headed towards the door, leaving you lingering beside the table, lip between your teeth. Clearing his throat, Tuck shifted, motioning towards the seat FDR just vacated.
“You can sit down if you want to…there is enough room for both of us,” he teased, making you laugh as you lowered yourself beside him in the booth.
“How long have you known FDR?” you asked, pushing your hair back and grabbing the glass FDR left behind. Tuck laughed as you sniffed it, before shrugging and taking a swig. “Don’t judge me, I need a drink.”
“Not judging, darling, promise!” he laughed, holding up his hands, before shaking his head a little. “Long time. We work together.” The way he left the sentence told you he was being careful, in case FDR had given you some bullshit cover story about what he did for a living. But instead of saying anything, you just nodded, moving to push your hair off your face as you sat back in the booth. “How about you?”
“Met him…about a year ago? I was a bartender downtown at the time. Not anymore,” you admitted, relieved, before shrugging.
“What do you do now?”
“It’s so boring compared to you guys, but, I’m an accountant,” you replied, making him cock his head, curious.
“Compared to us?” You quirked a brow, silently telling him that you knew what they did, before nodding. “Ah.”
“Yeah…don’t worry, lips are sealed,” you promised, blushing as he smiled. It was such a wholesome smile, and so much different than the one you usually got from FDR. His were usually flirty, devious, accompanied with a quirk of his brow, but Tuck was smiling softly, sweetly, no sign of a motive to being nice to you.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t flirty, but it was a very gentle flirt, and he didn’t reach out to touch you more than a light brush of his hand to your arm as he laughed. God, the sound of it made your heart skip a beat, as you ducked your head, giggling softly. His smile, and his laugh, were things you would be happy to have in your life forever, they were sweet, and contagious.
“Plans for the weekend?” he asked, curious, as you cleared your throat.
“Uh…not really. I usually work most weekends, but I needed a few days off, so I have no idea what I’m gonna do this weekend. What about you?” Tuck made a soft sound, thinking about the answer, but the both of them jumped as FDR laughed, flopping down in the open spot in the booth.
“Know what I think?” he asked, grinning, as he reached over for Tuck’s glass. “I mean, aside from one of you buying a new round?”
“Something naughty about the bartender?” you teased, nodding towards the blonde across the room. The way his lips curled against the glass made you and Tuck both snicker as FDR shook his head.
“Yes,but no. You guys should go out this weekend.”
The both of you glanced at each other, surprised, but you felt yourself blush again, lip pulled once more between your teeth as Tuck furrowed his brow and looked back at his friend.
“Don’t really wanna step on your toes. Done that one, not in a rush to do it again,” Tuck reminded him, as FDR laughed, grabbing the other empty glass on the table.
“Step on my toes?! Man, we’re just friends,” he insisted, pointing at you, as you snickered, shaking your head.
“He’s too much of a flirt to get in my pants,” you told Tuck, grinning as he laughed, startled. “But, he’s fun to get a drink with.”
“He is! That is true,” Tuck agreed.
“My type is…less horn-dog, more…soft and sweet and makes me laugh,” you added, biting your lip as you glanced back at Tuck, hopeful. Catching your eye, Tuck felt himself warm, and swallowed, nodding.
“Well…in that case? How…do you feel about paintball?” Tuck asked, as FDR winked at you both, excusing himself to the bar.
“We will have to go somewhere outside of the city…I…may have been banned from the places here for being too aggressive.” Tuck dropped his jaw, before laughing loudly, hand thumping against the table. “What?!” she giggled, shrugging. “Those fucking kids came outta nowhere, it’s not like it’s actually possible to curve a paintball! I was aiming for the other team, they just…sorta got in the way. Not my fault they took it to the face.”
Tuck had to curl in, head on the table, as his body shook with laughter, before he looked up at her, grinning.
“That was your way of asking me out, right?” you teased, smiling brightly as he nodded his head.
“Even if it wasn’t, darling, it would definitely be after that story.” You giggled, shifting a little closer.
“I could get used to that.” At the quirk of his brow, you shrugged a little, resting your head on your hand, elbow against the table. “Being called darling.” Tuck slowly smiled again, this one soft but much more flirty than before.
“Then it is a good thing I like the way you blush when I call you that, isn’t it?” he murmured, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear.
FDR grinned to himself as he sipped his drink, turning away from the sight of the booth and winking at the bartender.
“Did it work?” she asked, chuckling as he nodded.
“Like a charm. What can I say? I’m good,” FDR replied, glancing back to see both you and Tuck leaning in close as you talked, completely unaware that he had no intention of coming back to the booth.
Summary: You're having a bad day and all you want is your boyfriend.
Pairing: Tuck x Reader
Movie: This Means War
Warnings: Anxiety attack, bastard of a boss
This gawd awful work day felt as if it just would not end. The building was moving to a new location and I was in charge of getting that new location ready.
Early starts to the day and long nights is what my summer had amounted to. The only light was my boyfriend, Tuck and his son, Joe.
I sat in the car, waiting for Joe to get through with karate class. I had cried on my way over, but was finding it difficult to dry my tears so not to worry my little man.
Taking a deep breath, I felt the burn in my eyes as I thought of the words that my supervisor said to me, “I don't think you have the passion to keep this going,”
I resorted to holding my breath for a few short seconds to quell the urge to cry, and it was by pure luck that the tears retreated since the class was dismissing.
Joe ran to the car, smiling, “Hey Y/N!”
“Sup chicken butt?” I internally flinched at the throaty sound of my voice.
“You okay?” Joe asked, buckling up.
“Yeah. Allergies… So how about we get some pizza and breadsticks and rent that movie you've been wanting to see?”
He threw his arms up, “Yeah!”
°°°°°°
Joe helped Y/N carry dinner into the house. He could see that something was wrong, but he didn't know how to go about it.
“Dad should be home in a few minutes. Think you can wait to eat?”
Joe nodded.
Y/N gave a small smile, “Great. I'm going to get cleaned up. You go get changed, k?”
“Yes Ma’am,”
As soon as Joe had come downstairs, his dad walked through the door.
“Hey Spudly!”
“Dad! There's something wrong with Y/N!”
The smile fell from Tuck’s face, “Where is she? What's wrong?”
“She looks like she's been crying,”
Tuck gripped his son's shoulders and bent at the waist, “Alright then. She upstairs?”
"Yeah,"
“Go play your game for a bit while I find out what's going on,”
°°°°°°
I showered quickly, but dressed slowly in my most comfortable pajamas. I was drained and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.
My eyes were slightly bloodshot and my head throbbed. I had cried even more in the shower, so I was hoping to be done with it.
As I opened the door, I was greeted by a concerned Tuck. His arms were folded over his chest, his feet crossed at the ankles, “ ‘ello Love,”
And his voice… his silky smooth, British accent, so full of warmth and love- oh shit. I could feel the tears again.
“Jesus,” Tuck commented, pulling me into his tight embrace.
“Damnit,” I cried, sick of feeling like this.
Tuck’s full lips rested on the shell of my ear as he spoke softly, “C'mon now, Gorgeous. Tell me what has my girl so upset, yeah?”
“St-stu-stupid work,”
His fingers ran down the length of my back, squeezing my waist before gliding upwards to my shoulders, “That wanker givin’ you a hard time?”
I sighed and lifted my head. Tuck cupped my cheeks, using the soft pad of this thumbs to swipe away the tracks, “He said that I don't have the passion to keep the move going,”
Tuck's brows were pinched in anger, his lips pursed.
I continued on with my rant, “I hardly have been able to see you and Joe because of the move. I- I give that son of a bitch my all a-and then he goes and says that… it’s a slap in the face Tuck,”
He bent his knees to get eye level with me, “Listen here, he doesn't deserve the energy that you're givin’ him, right?”
I took a deep breath and nodded. Tuck was right. I had to stop this once and for all.
He pulled me to the bedroom, giving me a chance to pull myself together. There, he changed out of his suit and into something more comfortable for the night in.
Before we went downstairs, Tuck wrapped me up in another tight embrace, his face resting in the crook of my neck. As he hugged me, he left several small kisses while I breathed in his scent.
It was calming and just what I needed, “Thank you,”
When he pulled back from the hug, he smiled, “There's my girl. You up for a movie, Sweetheart?”
I bit my lip, taking in the love that was in gaze, “Yeah,”
With that, he held my hand as we descended the stairs. Joe paused his game and hopped up from the couch.
Without a word, he came to me and gave me a hug, “Love you, Y/N.”
Tuck smiled at us.
“I love you, too munchkin,”
°°°°°°
With the movie over and the food demolished, it was time for Joe to go to bed. While Tuck made sure that his boy had brushed his teeth and was in bed, I stayed downstairs to clean up our mess.
I had my hands in soapy, hot water when I felt Tuck wrap his arms around my waist.
“You feelin’ any better, Love?”
I tilted my head back, my eyes closed as his warmth enveloped me, “Much,”
I continued to wash dishes while Tuck held me. As I rinsed the last dish and put it in the dish drainer, he handed me the hand towel so I could dry my hands.
I threw it on the counter and turned to face him. After a few heartbeats, I leaned in, kissing Tuck slowly.
His lips moved with mine, tasting and teasing with each pull.
“I love you, Tuck,” I whispered.
His lips ghosted over mine with each word “I love you too, Sweetheart,”
We spent the rest of the night on the porch, enjoying the crickets chirping and light breeze while sharing soft touches and kisses. It was the perfect ending to an exhausting day.
Imagine Tuck being nervous at the first family gathering that you've taken him to.
Placing a hand on Tuck's arm, you gave him a squeeze, "Talk to me,"
He looked around the yard taking in all the sounds and smells of your family get together. He bowed his head, his brows raising, "It means a lot that you brought me here,"
"You are my guy, Tuck," you said, smiling.
"It's just..." his sentence trailed off.
"Just what, Hun?"
You could tell he was gearing up for something big, but he was having a hard time getting the words out.
Patiently you waited. It was slightly interrupted when your Grandmother came over to the table where you both were seated.
"Hey Grandma,"
"My sweet, baby girl," she cooed, making you blush.
Your Grandpa came over, putting his arm around your Grandma's shoulders, "C'mon, Doll. Time to cut the cake,"
"We want you both over there now," Grandma said.
"Yes Ma'am,"
You looked to Tuck to find him smiling at the elderly couple a dreamy look in his eyes.
When you rose from your seat, Tuck grabbed your hand, gently pulling you back down.
"I want that with you, Y/N,"
You could feel your eyes burn from the emotion he was emitting. Cupping his cheek, you leaned closer and gave him the most gentlest kiss, "I want that with you too, baby,"
"Yeah?" He breathed against your lips
You grinned, your noses lightly touching one another, "I do,"
Tuck gripped your chin and closed the short distance with a searing kiss.
This is what he had been craving, what he'd been missing; and now he had it all.
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